


Year L

by SeeEmRunning



Series: Sam at Hogwarts [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeEmRunning/pseuds/SeeEmRunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam moves on to the excitement of higher education.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Portkey drop room was crowded.

That was Sam Winchester's first thought, anyway. His second thought was, _Oh, Keisha's here already._

"Sam!" she said happily, drawing him into a hug. Sam returned it. "How was your one-day break?"

Sam laughed. "Good. Adam talked me into playing video games most of the day."

She laughed, too, white teeth flashing brightly against her dark face. "I have to get to my orientation - meet up for dinner tonight?"

"Definitely," Sam said. They split, each going to a different sign - Sam to the one marked 'Enforcement', Keisha to the one marked 'Courtroom'. Other signs advertised different programs of study, from lawmaking to judicial practice.

The man sitting at the table underneath the Enforcement sign said, "Name?"

"Winchester."

"Winchester...Winchester…." he muttered, paging through the thick folder in front of him. "Here we are. Winchester, Sam, top marks in Exit Exams, OWL scores high. There's a packet of information for you" - he handed over a white envelope - "uniforms and more information through the door behind me."

"Thanks," Sam said, moving past him.

The room he entered next was the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall and packed with theater-style seating. Thirty or forty people stood in a single-file line at the base of the stage that took up the entire far side of the room.

Sam joined them. The people in front of him were talking and laughing about a blow-up doll somebody had brought to their graduation. American southwest, judging by their accents.

The line moved forward quickly. Sam resettled his duffel on his back and touched the mirror in his pocket, reassuring himself it was there. His wand was strapped to the inside of his arm. When he got a chance he'd sketch out a holster design that had been percolating in his mind for a few days, then see about transfiguring something into the proper form.

"Name?" somebody asked when he reached the front of the line.

"Winchester."

The man checked a box near the end of the list in front of him. "Instructor Daniels will take your information and get your uniform. Next!"

A man with short-cropped brown hair beckoned him over. "Darren Daniels," he said. "Sam Winchester?"

"Yes, sir," he said.

The man nodded curtly. "This way."

He led Sam over to a corner and tapped his head with his wand. "Six feet even, 120 pounds," he read off. A pen scribbled in a notebook Sam hadn't noticed as he continued to rattle off measurements.

"Wand type?" he asked.

"Hazelwood and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches."

"Still using your first wand?"

"No, sir. That was broken."

"How did it get broken?"

"Battle at the Ministry of Magic in England."

Daniels blinked at him. "You were in that mess?" he asked, dismayed.

"Yes, sir. And the one at Salem last Halloween."

Daniels shook his head. "Damn hunters," he muttered. "So this is your second wand?"

"Yes." Sam let the hunter comment slide, sure it wouldn't be the worst he'd receive.

"Fiancee or wife?"

"No."

"Next of kin?"

"Kate Milligan."

"Relation?"

"Mother of my half-brother."

"Witch?"

"Muggle."

"Do you have a witch or wizard we can contact in case of emergency?"

Sam hesitated barely a second. "Emily Raticker. She's at the Healer's College across town."

"Relation?"

"Girlfriend."

The pen scribbled that down, too.

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Birthdate?"

"May second, nineteen-eighty-three."

It went on and on, question after question - race, sex, gender (which apparently weren't the same thing, much to Sam's surprise), parents' occupations, living blood relatives, combat experience, Apparition ability, Animagus ability, more things than Sam had ever imagined being asked.

At last, Daniels ripped off a piece of paper with _S. Winchester - cleared - size ST_ written above scribbles that looked like they might be a signature. "Through the right wing of the stage," he told Sam, handing the scrap over.

"Right, thanks," Sam said, turning away. He passed a woman paired with a female instructor and a man paired with a male one before he reached the steps.

He'd never been on a stage before. Long black cloths hung at three-foot intervals, anchored to the bottom - _why?_ He understood the reason for the blue velvet at the front, but why the black?

An open door let light shine through into the wing, and it was there Sam went. A man held out his hand. "Assignment?" he asked.

Sam gave him the scrap. He squinted down, then got up and rummaged in a box behind him. "Uniform," he announced, passing Sam a bundle of fabric. "Tap your wand to the nametag and say your last name before you put it on. Once it's on, it's yours for the duration. You are responsible for cleaning and mending your uniform. This" - he passed Sam another white envelope - "is information specific to your program of study and includes your schedule, a map, dorm assignment, and mealtimes. We advise you to proceed to your dorm and get settled in before dinner tonight. Any questions?"

"No."

"Then get going," he said, and turned to the young woman who had just entered. "Assignment?"

Sam slipped out into the hallway and juggled his uniform until he could open the second envelope and find his assignment. Room 17C, bed 42. According to the map, that was in the basement with the other dorms.

He slid the map and dorm information back inside his envelope just as the young woman came out. "Hello," he said.

"Hi," she said, smiling distractedly. Her gleaming blonde hair was tied up in a strict bun so tight her face looked stretched out, leaving nothing around her face to distract from her dark blue eyes. "You're on the law enforcement track?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yep. Ashley Smith."

"Sam Winchester."

"Where'd you go to school?" she asked. "I went to Portland Academy, in Oregon."

"I finished at Salem Witch's Institute," Sam told her.

"Nice," she said. "Where's your room? Mine's 16C."

"I'm 17C," he said. "Any of your classmates come with you?"

"Joe went the Courtroom way," she said. "You?"

"My friend Keisha's on that track, too," he said, starting to walk toward the stairs. The building reminded him of a Muggle school, actually; there were tiled floors, fake-cinderblock walls painted white, and styrofoam squares held up by a metal grid for the ceiling, with every few squares lit up - apparently they'd figured out a way to emulate electric lights. Maybe they'd taken over an abandoned school or, hell, built it in the Muggle style to begin with. They used pens and notebooks here - maybe they'd adopted architecture, too.

She talked about her family and friends and schooling all the way down, barely pausing for breath. Sam just listened, quietly grateful when he could shake her at the door to her dorm room.

In his own dorm, there were dozens of beds lined up in two neat rows. There was a dresser and a wardrobe beside each one, clearly meant for use. Sam found the one with '42' inscribed on the bedpost, directly to the right of the door - furthest from the bathroom.

Sam frowned. He woke up constantly from nosebleeds and visions; if something was in the middle of the floor, it was almost certain he'd wake up the entire room getting to the sink. Maybe he could conjure paper towels? Or use a sock and Scourgify it?

He pondered the problem as he unpacked, stuffing socks and underwear in the top drawer and his workout clothes in the second before gently placing the old photograph of his family in the now-tarnished silver frame on top. His uniform, which turned out to be khakis and a sky-blue polo underneath a lilac outer robe, went into the closet. He touched his wand to the strip of white fabric over the left breast and muttered, "Winchester," not surprised in the least when the name shimmered into black existence.

He tapped the bed and muttered an Area Silencing Charm, one of the ones he'd found in the library the year before. That would stop him from waking people up, at least.

He sat on the bed and pulled out the papers from the envelopes. Class schedule - only four periods a day. Afull morning of 'Law', an hour of 'Ethics' after lunch, and then three hours of 'Physical Instruction' and three hours of 'Magical Defense'. Breakfast from seven to eight, lunch from eleven to noon, dinner from seven to eight. The blocks were all colored, the key on the bottom telling him what it meant. Law would be shared with all classes, Ethics with Lawmaking. The first hour of Physical Instruction also included everyone, but the last two hours of Physical and all of Magical were shared only with Jailers. Magical ended twenty minutes before dinner began, probably so everyone could shower.

The remaining papers included a roster of the Enforcement class (sixty-seven people in all, twenty-five of them female), the code of conduct, information on the school, short bios of the instructors, and a welcome letter from the head of the school.

By the time Sam had read through everything, the dorm had filled completely. Small knots of young men stood around talking; Sam turned to the person sitting on the bed next to him and said, "Hi!"

He didn't react, and Sam remembered the silencing spell. He stood to get out of its range and repeated, "Hi."

He looked up. "Hi."

"I'm Sam Winchester."

"Luis Wilson," he said. "I went to Southwestern, you?"

"Salem," he said. "Well, I finished there. Did my first five years at Hogwarts."

"Huh." Luis turned back to his papers, clearly uninterested in talking more. Sam let him be.

Dinner that night, at seven on the nose, brought together all of them at once. The dining hall was the size of a small opera house, as it had to be to fit over a thousand young adults, and the noise was incredible. Nobody was shouting, but so many people were talking it was difficult to pick out any one conversation. Sam vaguely recognized a few people from Salem in the crowd, but he didn't try to chat with them. Instead, he took a seat at the long table marked 'Enforcement' and waited patiently for something to happen, grateful when Ashley Smith chose a seat far away from him.

A tall, imposing man with pale skin and red eyes stood at the table along the very front of the room. "Silence!" he called, and the room quieted at once. "I am Frederick Fiscalizar. Welcome to Law Academy, the premier school for those interested in legal matters and representation. You will have a meeting with the directors of your own programs following this meal.

"Instructor Benita, Ethics instructor and head of the Courtroom program for lawyers and judges." A tall, thin woman with golden skin and dark hair and eyes stood and waved briefly.

"Instructor Daniels, fight instructor and director of the Enforcement program." The same man that had done Sam's intake forms acknowledged his introduction with a short bow.

Sam clapped politely at each introduction, though the names slipped right through his head. He was beginning to feel metallic and brittle, which he had begun to learn meant a vision was on the horizon.

He was proven right as Grendel, the director of the Jailer program, was introduced. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

_A red-haired man being eaten alive by ghouls, tied to a tombstone in a cemetery. He screamed for help; one of them slit his throat and drank deeply._

He opened his eyes to the confused look of the young man across from him. That had been a very short vision, and not a bad one - his nose wasn't even bleeding, and his headache was manageable.

"And last but not least, Instructor Nulling, Law instructor and director of the Written Law program!" Sam blinked and looked back up at the instructors' table, too late to catch which one had claimed the name.

"You have all received the codes of conduct," Fiscalizar continued. "I won't insult you by reiterating them. I will, however, remind you that while casual dress is allowed on your rest day, during Physical Instruction, and at dinner, at all other times you are expected to wear your uniforms.

"Welcome to Law Academy!" Fiscalizar sat down, and the tables in front of them filled with food. Sam happily grabbed a pear and a stuffed pepper that looked quite a bit like the ones Hogwarts had served when the Bulgarians had come. Purzhena chushka, he remembered after a moment's thought.

It wasn't purzhena chushka. It was a green bell pepper stuffed with mozzarella. He ate it anyway.

Conversation raged around him - where people were from, why they wanted to be in Enforcement, what their families were like. Sam stayed silent and just listened.

After dinner, they were sent to a room on the second floor. All sixty-seven of them found seats and settled down to wait for Daniels, who was rummaging through a briefcase at the front of the room, to begin speaking.

After a quick glance at the paper he pulled out, he said, "All right, everyone! Welcome to Law Academy, Enforcement Program. This is a fourteen-month intensive course meant to get you ready to enter law enforcement at the local, regional, or national level.

"Your first day will be meant to gauge your current level of mastery. This is done only for your instructors' benefit, so we know how much ground we need to cover and identify students who may need extra help."

Sam listened closely as he outlined the basics and what they could expect from the next fourteen months. Daniels ended by looking back at his paper and saying, "Brown, Green, Kilter, Smith, and Winchester, stay. The rest of you are dismissed."

Sixty-two people filed out, leaving just five of them behind.

"You five remain because you all indicated successful Animagus status on your applications," Daniels said. "When I call your name, step forward, claim your form and identifying marks, and complete your transformation. Johanna Brown."

A plain-looking brunette with a Quidditch player's body stepped forward. "Lioness, discoloration on my right side," she said, and a moment later a golden lioness was standing in her place. She turned in a circle, showing them all the shock of white running along her ribs, and then changed back.

Daniels wrote on the paper in front of him. "John Green."

A weedy redhead hurried forward. "Butterfly, red lines on my wings," he said. A moment later, a green butterfly lay in his place. He took flight and landed on Daniels' desk for a brief pause before he returned to his spot on the ground and turned back.

Lisa Kilter was a tiger with rectangular markings around her eyes that matched her glasses; Mickey Smith was a chocolate lab with yellow fur running along his belly.

Sam stepped forward when called. "Um, I don't know my identifying marks," he began nervously.

"Why not?" Daniels asked.

"I, uh, I'm a hellhound," Sam said, embarrassed.

"Really," Daniels said. "Go ahead and transform then."

Sam focused and changed. It was easier now, in the quiet, than it ever was in the middle of a fight.

Daniels stared at him. "Well," he said faintly, "that could be useful. Go ahead and change back." He cleared his throat as Sam reverted to his human shape. "Animagus forms are in high demand, for espionage or for combat," he said. "Your form usually determines this. Some animals, like dogs, can be used for either. Others - like lions or butterflies - are useful for only one or the other. I don't know _what_ to do with a hellhound, frankly. You five will have an additional class after dinner, to learn to fight or spy or, in Smith's and Winchester's cases, both. Meet in this room tomorrow night for further instruction. Winchester, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed."

The four escaped. Sam watched them go with a little envy.

"So. Winchester. You're a Seer?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said automatically.

"Do you see the future in general, or people you know only?"

"Um." Sam licked his lips. "General future, but they've all got - I mean, the only thing they really have in common is that someone always dies."

"Someone always dies," Daniels repeated.

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

Daniels shook his head. "Can you feel it coming on?"

"Usually," Sam said. "It's a lot more common when I'm asleep, but I usually feel it coming when I'm awake."

Daniels nodded, like that made perfect sense. Maybe it did. "If it involves anybody here, you let an instructor know _immediately_ ," he ordered. "Even if it's the middle of the night."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

Law was held in the auditorium - unsurprising, given that everybody in the entire school was in the class. Nulling was a frail old man, stooped and bent, requiring the use of a cane. "Hello, everyone," he called, voice magically amplified. "We're going to begin with a placement test. When you're done, bring your packet up to the stage and put it on the edge." He flicked his wand, sending papers soaring. A small stack of them landed on Sam's lap with a quiet _thump._

He reached down beside him and flipped up the little half-desk, then looked at the questions.

_1\. In what year was Edict 779 handed down?_

_2\. Edict 779 restricted which class of magical creatures from owning a wand?_

_3\. When was Edict 779 repealed?_

Sam flipped through the pages in front of him, hoping to find something he could at least guess at, and found a few on page 5:

_47\. American Exit Exams are most similar to what British exams?_

_48\. True/False (circle): Employers are allowed to discriminate against international applicants with qualifying test scores._

_49\. The following Ministry Departments DO NOT work with other countries' analogues:_

_Magical Cooperation  
Games and Sports  
Domestic Affairs  
Trade_

On page 7 there was a single question about the International Warlock Convention's Sardinian Subcommittee. The last three caught his interest, even though he had no idea how to answer:

_98\. Muggle Hunters are a protected class known as…?_

_99\. What is the proper course of action when encountering a Muggle Hunter in the field?_

_100\. How many Hunters have successfully killed natural witches or wizards?_

He turned in the exam only after giving up on answering most of the questions. When everyone had placed their stacks on the stage, Nulling said, "We will start with the Wizarding Constitution, which protects basic rights for all citizens."

Sam took careful notes; the pre-test had shown him just how little he actually knew about American law. Not that he'd thought he knew much about it in the first place.

Then they were released to lunch, and then to Ethics, which they shared with Lawmaking and where they were talked at for an hour about generalities.

Then came Physical Instruction, which was held outside and begun with a half-hour of stretches, running, push-ups, squats, and various other exercises, led by a hard-looking man named Nilk. At two-thirty, they were split into two groups; Daniels took Enforcement and Jail students, while Nilk took the rest.

"We have two and a half hours to get eighty of you assessed," Daniels told them. "I call your last name. You come up, we spar. Addams!"

A pale, thin girl with widow's-peaked black hair and large eyes hurried to stand in front of him and was knocked unconscious in under a minute. Daniels revived her and sent her back.

"Brown, Johanna!"

The lion Animagus from the night before stepped forward. She was marginally better, lasting just under two minutes.

"Brown, Liam!"

Daniels worked his way through the list. Most people did fairly poorly, though a few lasted longer than three minutes, and Sam felt himself growing nervous. He hadn't actually, physically fought in years; his last sparring session had been when he was _fourteen,_ and while Lianne and Christina had made sure he was keeping up with his training, he hadn't seen them in over two years. He'd slacked off once he'd stopped actively hunting, and he was going to get his ass handed to him.

"Winchester!"

Sam took a deep breath, stepped forward, and immediately had to block a punch to the face. He focused on Daniels' chest, which would tell him which arm was about to swing. He played defense for about a minute before he relaxed, found the rhythm of the fight, and kicked out between his instructor's legs. Daniels pivoted, taking the blow on the hip, and grabbed Sam's foot. He twisted it to the side, and Sam hopped off his other leg and got close enough to punch his bicep. Daniels grunted and let go; Sam fell, off-balance, and barely rolled away from the kick aimed at his side.

He got to his feet; Daniels came in with a punch to his ear that had him seeing stars. He staggered, and Daniels boxed the other ear - Sam hadn't even seen him move. He dropped like a stone and had to close his eyes against the spinning world. The whole thing had taken less than five minutes. If he'd done this poorly as a child he wouldn't have eaten for a week.

His head cleared, and the world stopped spinning. He looked up to see Daniels pocketing his wand. "All of you have room for improvement!" he told them all as Sam got to his feet. "In fourteen months' time, I expect all of you to display a certain level of mastery. 

"Instructor Oppenheimer will now take over for your Magical Defense class."

He turned and walked away as a curvaceous woman with reddish-gold hair took center stage. "I am Instructor Oppenheimer," she called. "When I call your name, step forward and we will duel. Addams!"

Bizarrely, Sam felt less worry about the dueling portion than he had about sparring. It made sense - he'd fought for his life with magic far more recently than he'd fought with his fists - but when had he started relying on his wand to fight his battles? It was more than a little disconcerting.

After fifty-four people had dueled, she called a pause. "If I've already gotten you, go ahead to dinner," she told them. "The rest of you, remain. Ashley Smith!"

The blonde girl Sam had met the night before lasted perhaps half a minute before being disarmed. She returned to the school as Oppenheimer rapped out, "Mickey Smith!"

Mickey walked forward, licking his lips nervously, and began to duel. Like most of the people before him, he was sloppy with blocks and only marginally better with aiming offensive spells. He was disarmed in under a minute, and he walked dejectedly back toward the school.

Once more, Sam was the last one called. This time he didn't have an audience. "You were in the Ministry mess a few years ago, correct? And the Salem battle last Halloween?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I'm not going easy on you," she warned. "Bow."

He did as he was told, not taking his eyes off her once, and cast a shield the moment they both straightened. He shot out with a Stunner and two Blasting Curses in quick succession before he had to recast protection.

It took nearly ten minutes, but he was disarmed. "Good," she said, breathing hard. "Dismissed."

Sam picked his wand up from the dirt and trudged back to the school.

His day wasn't over yet - after dinner he had to go back to the second floor for Animagus training. He, Johanna, Mickey, John, and Lisa all made their way to the classroom.

They were met there by a man and a woman. "Hello!" the woman chirped. "I'm Instructor Spiri, and this is Instructor Halfler. I'll be taking those of you who will learn espionage, Halfler will take those of you who will learn combat. We'll meet every other day; if you're learning both forms, you'll come every night we have class. Clear?"

The five of them nodded.

"Good," Halfler said. "Green, you're the only one who won't be good for combat."

"Kilter, Brown, you won't be able to learn espionage," Spiri added.

"Winchester, Smith, you two will learn both," Halfler said. "Have any of you used your forms to spy before? Even if it's just, say, learning what you got for Christmas?"

John and Mickey raised their hands slowly.

"Good. Anyone use their forms for combat?"

Sam raised his hand, but he was the only one.

Halfler nodded. "Thought you might have," he said. "Soon as I saw your form. You did for four last Halloween, didn't you?"

"In the hellhound form, yeah," Sam said.

"More with your wand?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said, remembering the sprays of blood as his Cutting Curses decapitated his opponents.

"We'll be starting with combat," Halfler said, "so Green, you're dismissed."

"Meet me here at eight tomorrow night," Spiri told him as they walked out.

"All right," Halfler said. "All of you, go ahead and change."

Sam focused, and his vision warped into the familiar red fishbowl. It was getting easier and easier.

"Good," Halfler said, flicking his wand. Four dummies appeared. "I want each of you to stand in front of one of these dummies. When I say go, attack. Your goal is to disarm them."

They arranged themselves. Sam waited to see which ones the other three claimed before he padded into position next to the labrador.

"Go!"

Sam loped forward. The stick poking out of the dummy's hand was just slightly lower than his mouth, and so he lowered his head and bit at it. It broke into pieces. Unfortunately, he also ripped off part of the dummy's hand.

He looked at the others. Mickey's and Johanna's dummies still had their wands clenched firmly in hand, and they were both leaping at the dummies like they could shake it loose by causing enough chest trauma. Lisa's dummy was wandless; looking around, Sam saw it on the floor two feet to the right.

Lisa padded over in tiger form and circled him. Sam turned to keep her in his sights, examining her through the hellhound's eyes. She was mostly green, which meant she ran slightly hotter than most humans did. Like all other living things, he couldn't distinguish features beyond basic shape.

"Kilter!" Halfler barked. "Can you see Winchester?"

The lion nodded.

"Do you see any identifying marks?"

Lisa completed another circle around him, then very deliberately shook her head and managed a shrug.

"Great," Halfler muttered. It would have been too quiet for Sam to hear in his human form, but hellhound ears were apparently a little more sensitive. "And you two, Brown and Smith, stop. You're going to hurt yourselves."

The persistent bangs as they collided headfirst with the dummies subsided.

"Kilter, you sent your dummy's wand two feet away. They easily could dodge a spell and pick it up. Winchester, you took off part of their _hand._ That's not good."

If he was in such a bad situation he had to take his Animagus form in a fight, he was going for the kill, it was that simple.

Halfler flicked his wand, and the dummies reset to their original position. "Again," he ordered.

They left the room just under an hour later. Muscles Sam hadn't known he _had_ were sore. He'd never spent so much time in his Animagus form, and it had never occurred to him that moving so much would strain his body.

The next day, they received the scores of their pre-tests. Sam was unsurprised to find he'd completely failed his Law exam, though he hadn't done as poorly as he'd thought on sparring or dueling. They started basic fight forms in each of those classes.

After dinner, Sam, John, and Mickey all made their way to the classroom on the second floor to meet Spiri for their first lesson in spying, then followed her outside to the same place they did their physical training. There was an obstacle course set up, with hurdles, rope netting close to the ground, a series of structures clearly meant to be climbed, seven pipes planted firmly into the ground, tires laying side-by-side on the ground, a set of toothed wooden beams offset from each other, and a balance beam. There was a dirt track connecting them all, but the ground beneath the climbing obstacles was grassy.

"You'll go through one at a time," Spiri said. "If you hit grass or an obstacle, or even brush it, it will light up red. On the climbing obstacles, brushing the support beams will light red. Those seven pipes" - she pointed at the ones just beyond the climbing obstacles - "are to be weaved through. More than three brushes over the entire course will constitute failure by the end of your training, but for today, we're just going to see how you do. Green, you first."

John turned into a butterfly, flew away, and was quickly lost to sight. None of the obstacles turned red, though whether he was actually attempting them or just flying straight through was a matter of debate. He jogged back to them after changing back into a human at the end.

"Smith," Spiri said when John made it back.

Mickey changed into his dog form and ran to the first obstacle. He tried to jump, but couldn't _quite_ get high enough; he brought down three hurdles when his back legs caught the very first one and he fell. All three turned bright red.

Mickey wiggled his way out of them and slinked beneath the final four instead, managing to avoid any more touching. He crawled beneath the netting on his belly, but apparently forgot that he had a tail - it stayed up, turning the net red along his path. He managed to get himself hopelessly entangled in the rope netting, and when he fell, he raced to the next obstacle - a set of three logs, set on their sides at increasing heights. He jumped from one to the other and then down to the dirt track without incident, and Sam and Mickey clapped for him.

The next obstacle was a set of seven logs set end-first into the ground at differing heights. Mickey got through most of them, but miscalculated the fifth jump and overshot, missing the sixth log completely. He hurried on to the next obstacle, a horizontal ladder like the ones Sam had played on in parks as a child set five feet in the air. He wiggled his way up the rungs set into the side and crossed the top without incident.

The climbing obstacle he faced now was a steep slope made of dirt and rock, with holes of differing sizes set at apparently random intervals. Mickey ran up the slope and jumped back down to the track without appearing to have a problem. The sheer wall he jumped halfheartedly at a few times, then just trotted around. He completely skipped the final climbing obstacle, a rope strung from the top of the wall to the weaving bars, which he completed without difficulty.

His legs weren't wide enough or long enough to hurtle through the tires, so he ended up jumping from one hole to the next, trying not to hit the sides. He turned ten of the fourteen tires red on his way through. The next obstacle, toothed beams, he leapt over easily, and he walked the balance beam at the end quickly. Finished, he loped back to them, tongue lolling out, and changed back.

"Sloppy," Spiri said. "Look at everything you touched."

Mickey's face fell as he surveyed the course. "I didn't realize…."

"I know," Spiri said. "We'll work on it. By the end of the year this won't be a problem for you. Winchester!"

Sam focused and changed, then loped forward. He, too, knocked over the first three hurdles; he had no idea where his paws were when he jumped. He tried to go underneath the fourth, as Mickey had, but he scraped the bottom of it no matter how far down he pressed himself - a bad sign for the low-crawl obstacle. He jumped the fifth hurdle, keeping his paws pressed to his belly, and while he cleared that hurdle, he couldn't get his paws down in time to catch him. He fell flat on his face and knocked over the last two.

Humiliated, Sam faced the rope netting. He got as low as he possibly could, back legs dragging behind him, but he couldn't even get his entire head beneath the netting. It dragged over his back as he crawled through.

The next netting, which he had to climb, presented its own challenges. He ended up leaning against it and walking up sideways, balancing carefully on his left paws and dragging his right ones up behind him. He tumbled off the top, landed back-first on the track, and couldn't quite hold in a yip of pain.

He rolled to his feet, trying to ignore the sharp ache spreading from his neck, and padded to the lengthwise logs. He put his front feet on the first log and pulled his back legs up, until he was almost-but-not-quite-sitting, and examined the gap before him. Then he thrust with his back legs, reached forward with his first legs, and felt his back legs dig deep grooves into the log and slip right off the back. His front paws landed solidly on the second log. What now?

He dug the claws in his front paws into the front of the second log and scrabbled with his back legs to get purchase once more. He felt them gouge out the wood behind him a few times before they finally caught, and he stood, back legs secure on the first log and front legs firmly on the second. He bent his back legs and jumped, not aiming to land on the third log but to go straight over it, and he succeeded - a little too well, as it turned out. He somersaulted right over, landed butt-first in the dirt, tumbled, and ended on his belly with his legs splayed out to the side.

He got to his feet painfully, thankful he was invisible because otherwise he would have to listen to the laughter. All his classmates could see was the dirt that puffed up when he landed.

Next was the standing logs. He jumped across them all, slipping a few times but never severely enough to make him fall. The horizontal ladder was child's play - he didn't even need to use the ladder to climb, instead just jumping straight up on top and walking across. He avoided the holes in the slope easily enough, then examined the wall in front of him. It was seven feet high, and he needed to land on the top, wrap his paws around the rope connected to it, and slide to the weaving bars.

He jumped, and his front paws bounced off the top edge. He fell back into the dirt. He took a step back and tried again, this time landing on top. He started to fall forward and his chest hit the rope. He pushed his legs together quickly, and though he fell over so the main part of his body was beneath the rope and his back legs fell off, his front arms held. Keeping his wrists bent, he slowly shuffled his way to the weaving bars and dropped off into the dirt.

The bars were too close for him to twist between them, he found when he hit the second one. He had to go all the way through, turn around, and go straight through the next gap.

Then came the tires, which Sam passed easily by putting one paw in each tire and slowly moving forward. He couldn't see his back paws - his head didn't bend quite that far - but the course had already begun teaching him where this body ended. His back paws hit one or two tires, but they went straight into the holes on the other twelve or so.

The toothed wood was next, and Sam jumped over the low spots with ease. He also walked along the balance beam without a problem, and then he walked back to the others and changed back.

"Look," Spiri ordered when he made it back. Sam did. Six overturned hurdles, the netting, a weaving bar, and two of the tires were glowing red.

"Green. What did you learn about your form?"

"Um." John laughed nervously. "Not much? I mean, a butterfly doesn't really have a problem with any of these."

"True. Smith?"

Mickey smiled ruefully. "How high I can jump."

"Anything else?"

"My depth perception's different. And how far I can jump."

"Winchester?"

"Where my limbs are," Sam said dryly. "How big my head is, and how wide my body is. That my claws can go right through the horizontal logs."

"You didn't know how big you are?" John asked.

"It's not like I can look in a mirror," Sam pointed out - reasonably, in his opinion. "And nobody has diagrams of hellhounds, or measurements, or-"

"Okay," Spiri interrupted. "I want you to go through it as a team now. Help each other out."

That went about as well as anyone expected, and they trudged back to her at the end of the course bruised and bleeding.

The next day, they started the obstacle course in Physical Instruction, as well. Sam did _much_ better as a human than he had as an animal. 

And so it went for the rest of the month. They continued to work on disarming in combat Animagus, the obstacle course in spying Animagus, fight forms in Magical Defense, generalities in Ethics, and the constitution in Law. In Physical Instruction they alternated days between fighting and running the obstacle course alone or in groups. Sam settled into the routine easily and got to know his classmates a little better, particularly his fellow Animagi; the five of them began sitting together and talking regularly.

Sunday was their only day off of the week, and Sam took the opportunities to meet Emily for an afternoon of wandering through a forest and talking about their classes. She pressed him to tell her about what he was eating and accepted his accounts without question. Near the end of July, she told him she'd been partnered with a Californian named Jess for her 'practical' class - which so far seemed to consist of cutting themselves and getting their partner to heal it, even though most of them already knew how to fix minor wounds.

On August first, as they were returning to the dormitory after combat Animagus training, Sam's pocket began saying his name.

"Dude, your pants are _talking_ ," Mickey said.

Sam shoved his arm halfheartedly and pulled out the mirror. "I'm here," he said to its surface.

Sirius's face, more lined than it had been the last time Sam had seen him, filled the glass. "The Ministry's fallen," he said without preamble. "Minister Scrimgeour" - Sam didn't think he imagined the disdain Sirius packed into the name - "is dead. Death Eaters attacked Bill and Fleur's wedding. We've all scattered - we're hiding."

"Sam? What is he talking about?" Lisa asked.

Sam ignored her. "What can I do?"

Sirius sighed. "Nothing, I don't think," he said. "I just thought you should know."

"Were there any casualties?"

"Only Death Eaters. The Weasleys are safe. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are in the wind - no idea where they've got to, but the people we've still got inside the Ministry swear they haven't come through, so we know they haven't been captured."

"If Hermione's with them, they'll do okay," Sam said, heart hammering as he tried to convince himself. "She's too clever to get them caught, she'll make Harry and Ron behave themselves."

"Here's hoping," Sirius said. "Look - Remus told me, you saw a battle at Hogwarts and Voldemort dying there - do you know anything else?"

"No," Sam said. "I'll let you know if I do - the mirror's still tied to Lupin, right?"

"Right," Sirius said - and then he glanced away sharply. "Shit. I have to go. Be careful."

"Sirius, what-" Sam started, but the mirror showed nothing but his face once more.

"What's going on?" Mickey demanded.

Sam swallowed. "That was one of my friends back in Britain - part of the resistance movement. Voldemort's captured the Ministry." He swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. "This is bad, this is very, _very_ bad."

"Why?" Lisa asked. "What's the deal with this - Voldewho?"

"What are you doing still out?" Halfler demanded, appearing at the top of the steps they'd just finished coming down when Sirius called.

"A friend's called," Sam told him. "Voldemort's taken over the British Ministry."

"Who?"

"You - eh - you might have heard him called You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Sam said slowly.

"That's - he's taken over the Ministry? How?" Halfler asked.

Sam shrugged helplessly. "Insurrection, probably. There wasn't time to get details before my friend hung up."

"He said something about attacking a wedding," Lisa said tentatively.

"Yeah, another friend's," Sam said. "I lived with that family one summer. No casualties, though, so that's good."

"You saw a battle at Hogwarts?" Mickey asked.

Sam winced. "Yeah. Seen it loads of times...not sure when it happens, but it's gotta be soon. Probably June, everything always goes to shit in June, he _likes_ June for some reason."

"You're rambling," Halfler said.

"Right, sorry," he said, "just worried...everyone I know's involved somehow, and I'm half a world away. They - uh - they're probably going to call me, when he attacks Hogwarts….Every fighter helps."

"Then you tell me," Halfler ordered. 

"And us," Lisa said. "We want to fight."

 _No,_ Sam thought but didn't say, _you really don't._

Sirius called him again an hour later, just as Sam was getting into bed. He ducked under the cover of the Silencing Charm and said, "Here."

"They put a Taboo on his name," Sirius said without preamble. "It's why I ducked out earlier" - he touched a black eye gingerly - "a couple Death Eaters appeared...good job they were stupid, or I'd've been done for."

"But you're all right?" Sam pressed.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Now listen. The Order's scattered, we're all over the place. Last I heard a couple of the Weasleys were planning on setting up a radio station. Tonks is sitting out until she has her baby, Remus is-"

"Hold up," Sam interrupted. "Tonks is _pregnant?_ Who's the dad?"

"Remus," Sirius said, a flicker of a smile appearing. "They got married a few months ago. Remus is a little torn up, he's afraid the kid's going to be a werewolf. He's going to check out the old headquarters, see if Harry, Ron, and Hermione are using it."

"Why the change?"

"Because when Dumbledore died, everyone who knew the location became a Secret-Keeper," Sirius told him. "That includes Snape, so you see why we can't use it-"

"What's wrong with Snape?"

Sirius looked taken aback for a moment. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" Sam asked, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

"Snape was the one who killed Dumbledore," Sirius said. "Vol- You-Know-Who put the Malfoy boy up to it, but he couldn't do it. So Snape did. Showed his true colors."

Where before he felt sick, now his stomach seemed to have vanished entirely. "Snape. Severus Snape, the Potions Master, _he_ killed Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "Anyway, we're going to see if they need help - if they do we're going to join them."

"Lupin's running out on his wife and kid?" Sam asked incredulously, because that was one exaggeration too many for the tales Sirius was trying to sell him.

"I tried to talk him out of it, but he's determined," Sirius said. "Says the kid's going to be ashamed of him anyway."

Sam took a breath to tell Sirius to try harder - and then he let it go. What did _he_ know about family? "What else is happening?" he asked instead.

"They're installing a puppet Minister, of course," Sirius said. "I don't know what else - we're scattered everywhere, it's hard to get in contact with anyone, especially those of us still in the Ministry - but I just...I thought you should know."

"Thanks," Sam said. "What can I do?"

"Nothing for now," Sirius said. "Keep your head down and your mirror on you. We'll call for you when there's a battle, we need everyone we can get."

"I have a teacher who told me to get him and he'd help," Sam said. "I'm at an Auror training school, can't imagine any of them will say no to combat."

Sirius looked delighted. "Excellent! Look up international travel - create Portkeys if you have to, and have them ready to go."

"Where should I set them for?"

Sirius considered. "Astronomy Tower," he said at last. "That should be far enough out of the way that nobody will be up there before we call you."

"Good," Sam said, and was caught off-guard by a yawn.

"Get to bed," Sirius said. "I'll call when there's news."

"You get sleep, too," Sam told him. "Exhaustion is as bad as not being prepared."

"Yes, Mother," Sirius said sarcastically. "Sleep well."

He deactivated the mirror, leaving Sam to stare at his reflection. He set it under his pillow and lay back. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

Sirius didn't call again for months. In that time, they moved on to more advanced fight and dueling forms, national law, specific ethical dilemmas, and killing in Animagus forms. Halfler got on him about only using his jaws to inflict damage, and Sam learned how to use his claws to his advantage. They were still using the obstacle course in stealth, and every time they ran it there was less red on the course. Sam had yet to figure out how to deal with the netting, though he'd learned how to jump the hurdles without falling over. He found the library, which spanned half of the third floor, and looked up how to create Portkeys. It took a few tries to get right, but he eventually managed to enchant several dozen transfigured watches, which he put into a large sack and slid under his bed until they were needed.

On their days off, Sam and Emily wandered the town, occasionally getting ice creams or sodas - Emily always bought, since Sam didn't have a paying job - and once or twice using privacy, cushioning, and bug-repellant charms in abandoned buildings for some alone time. It wasn't often, and Sam was more than fine with that. He was less fine with the visions that assaulted him whenever he was asleep, turning his rest into a bloody graveyard and preventing him from true sleep. He ended up using a sock whenever his nose bled and Scourgifying it every morning. He had very little energy left for anything more than the bare minimum, which Emily commented on every time they met.

Then it was Halloween, and Sam was keyed up, years of experience warning him against dropping his guard. Unlike Hogwarts and Salem, Law Academy didn't decorate for the holiday. The only concession were bat-shaped pumpkin tarts for dessert.

For only the second time since he'd learned what he was, Halloween passed without an attack, a troll, or a murderous teacher setting the Dark Lord's plans in motion.

He felt like _shit_ the next morning. He slapped his alarm silent when it went off for his morning run, which he'd continued with on the track they used for Physical Instruction, and fell back asleep. It was the first time he'd done that since before he'd known he was a wizard. 

He wasn't the only one - a sickness was spreading through the school fast. By the end of the day, thirty-five people in the basement dorms alone had been struck with it, vomiting and running fevers of 103 Fahrenheit and up. Sam shivered under his blankets, curled into a ball with sweat plastering his hair to his face, stomach cramping in knots, absolutely miserable.

On the second of November, the students were redistributed. The dorm Sam had been living in for just over five months became a sickroom for both sexes; beds were hovered in with people on them. Sam thought there had to be Healers or extra help coming in, but no sooner had he thought that than the door burst open and his father burst in, brandishing a large knife.

"You fucking faggot!" he screamed.

"No," Sam whimpered. "No, no, please-"

"I should have killed you! Mary should have _aborted_ you! I should have left you in that fire and taken Dean outside myself! You should have fucking killed yourself when you had the chance!"

John was right in his face now, spraying him with spittle, and Sam could only manage to whisper, "I'm sorry - I'm sorry," and then, as John raised the knife to deliver the killing blow, he screamed, "No! Please! I'm your _son_ , please-"

The knife came down, and he arched, pain radiating outward from his chest. He didn't even know he was screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

Emily and Jess's attentions were caught by the screamed, "No! Please! I'm your _son!_ " and a nightstand flying across the room. The frame on top fell to the floor and shattered.

"Stay here," their teacher ordered, running to the bed of the one screaming and casting a spell. It was the same bed they'd had to remove a Silencing Charm from earlier that day, though they hadn't seen the occupant; his face had been covered with blankets. "Hundred and nine!" she called.

One of the hospital Healers swore and joined her, casting a Cooling Charm and a Stunning Spell. The screaming stopped.

Their teacher turned and snapped, "You have patients of your own - get to it!"

Jess and Emily looked at each other, eyes wide. Emily slipped to the overturned nightstand and picked up the frame, recognizing the picture inside. She silently repaired it, righted the nightstand, and focused on the people she'd been assigned to. There were dozens of Healing students here - their teachers had claimed facing an epidemic would toughen them up. The students who hadn't had Influenza Chi when they were younger had been forbidden from joining them; like the Muggle illness known as chicken pox, Flu Chi was more dangerous to adults than to children, and so most magical parents elected to have their children exposed at a young age to prevent adult illness.

They were all working twelve-hour shifts, and they were _brutal_. They counted themselves lucky to get through two hours without somebody puking on them, and they all became very, _very_ good at sterilization charms. By the time twelve hours were done, it took all the energy they had to Portkey back to Healing Academy - nobody wanted to Apparate when they were _that_ exhausted - and bolt their food before falling into bed. The next morning, they woke up, took a fresh stock of potions brewed by the people who had never been infected or had refused to help, and Portkeyed back for another shift. The people under their care grew almost hourly. When the hundred and twelfth was brought in, Instructor Daniels grumbled, "How many damn Muggle-borns are there in this school?"

"They're about a third of the population," Jess said with a shrug. "Probably a third of the school, however many that is."

Then a patient's fever set her hallucinating, and Jess hastily cast a Cooling Charm before Daniels could answer her. The young woman on the bed bucked, seizing, and Jess barked, "Em!"

Emily hurried over and helped Jess turn the patient on her side - none of them could keep track of all the names at this point. There were now thirty of them per shift, not counting the qualified Healers from the hospital or their instructors, and their patients just kept coming. They became 'patient', not whatever their names were. It helped them get over the deaths more easily - by November third, four separate people had been taken out in Steribags to kill every germ and virus in the body so they could be safely returned to their families. The bags had once been floated as a possible way to carry out the death penalty: killing all bacteria would cause certain death, and, its proponents argued, it was quicker and easier than the traditional method of burning criminals at the stake. Opponents had shot it down quickly - in two main groups, their reasonings were polar opposites: the conservatives swore that the more violent the death the more effective the deterrent, and the liberals hoped that the more painful a criminal's death was the less likely it was the sentence would be handed down by a jury.

The only exception to the students' unofficial no-name rule was Emily's Sam, the first to hallucinate and whose fever was stubbornly holding steady at 103.8 despite the repeated Cooling Charms. He'd been unconscious for four days, ever since he'd seen his father and been Stunned to stop him screaming, and the Healers had resorted to conjuring ice packs and packing them around him so they could tend to other patients without his fever climbing higher. _Ennervate_ had no effect, which meant he wasn't being kept under by the Stunner, but by his own body trying to fight off the sickness.

On day eight, fevers started breaking. They set up a second sickroom, evicting the girls in the Law Enforcement program from their dorm, and started shuttling those who were getting better across the hall to prevent reinfection while their immune systems were shot. This also had the unfortunate effect of splitting the workforce, so that there were only twenty of them in the room of those who were still sick and ten caring for the ones recovering. The teachers shanghaied a few of the ones who had left the program into taking care of the ones in the second room, which freed the ones who had been shuffled around to come back to the room of those who remained ill - which included Sam. It was November twelfth, ten days after he first lost consciousness, and he was still out.

The numbers in what they all thought of as the 'active' sickroom decreased slowly, most going across the hall but an unfortunate few leaving in Steribags after the Resuscitation Charm failed. Two full weeks after the epidemic had begun, when there were just thirty people left in the 'active' room and more than a hundred had left the recovery room, Sam's fever broke and Healer Evans Vanished the ice packed around him. He was back to being skeletally thin, though Emily was fairly sure this was the first time he'd ever been so gaunt his cheekbones looked like they could cut glass.

Over the next day, ten more were moved over to recovery and there was a surplus of attendants for the number of patients in the active room. Emily fully expected for their shift numbers to be cut in half, if they were even needed anymore - they'd only been called in because the hospital couldn't spare enough fully-trained Healers to tend a fourth of the thousand-pupil school alone. The Law Academy didn't have one on staff, apparently relying on its instructors and students to know the necessary spells to keep themselves healthy.

It was then that Sam regained consciousness, and Emily went straight to his side. "How are you feeling?" she asked, holding a glass of water to his lips - his bed had already been charmed to have him reclined instead of flat to help him breathe.

"Bad," he croaked, and broke into a phlegmy cough. She put a basin under his mouth, far too experienced with this after two long, grueling weeks performing the same task, and Vanished whatever came up. "What happened?" he asked when he caught his breath.

"You got sick," Emily said. "A lot of people did. It's like chicken pox - if you get it when you're small, like I did, it's not a big deal. If you get it when you're an adult...well. The last two weeks happens."

Sam did a double-take. "Two weeks?"

"Yeah. You've been unconscious for most of it. It's November seventeenth now."

He turned his head to look at the picture she'd repaired so long ago. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbled.

Emily took the opportunity to check his temperature. "One-oh-two," she pronounced. "Too high to get to the recovery room quite yet."

"Recovery…?"

"Two hundred and seventy-two people got sick," she informed him. "Too many for one room, so we ended up moving the ones whose fevers broke across the hall to make room. Now drink."

He sipped the water she put to his lips and fell asleep minutes later. Emily went back to her other patients, in similar states of health.

It was the last shift she was called in for.  
***  
Sam slept and woke at odd times for several days. Nobody pushed him or the other six still recovering to go to class or meals, though they were only allowed water and clear broth.

On the twenty-first, Sam showered instead of using a spell to clean himself and emerged feeling better than he had in weeks. He dried himself off and went to breakfast. John, Lisa, Mickey, and Johanna had left his usual space open, and he slid into it.

"Sam!" Johanna said. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," he said.

"You lost so much weight," Lisa said, poking at the empty fabric around his waist.

"I know," Sam said gloomily, filling his plate with eggs, sausage, and baked apples. "It's going to take forever to get me up high enough Emily won't worry." He ate quickly - it was his first solid meal since he'd gotten sick, and he was _starving._ He also drank two cups of coffee.

Life slowly got back to normal. The other five rejoined the school at large over the weekend, and by Monday the girls had their dorm back.

Barely three weeks later came winter break. Law Academy had them off from the third week of December to the second week of January. Sam Portkeyed back to Kate's house and spent the time until Adam returned from Salem practicing defensive spells in Kate's living room.

When Adam returned, it was with stories of friends and pride in spells he'd learned. He begged Sam to teach him more, and Sam showed him _Incarcerous_ , the spell that had been used almost seven years ago to restrain John and Dean. He regretted it when Adam proved an astoundingly quick study and tied him up over and over again.

This year's Christmas dinner was a little better than the one the year before. Remembering Kate's advice, Sam had added more broth to the stuffing - which had the unfortunate effect of turning it into a soggy mass. Kate laughed and slid the ceramic dish he'd been making it in into the oven to crisp up. The turkey was still dry, but that was okay. Kate entertained them with stories about difficult patients.

They cleaned up after dinner while Adam was in the living room, playing one of the games Kate had gotten him. "We need to talk," Kate said, voice low.

"What's up?" Sam asked, twitching his wand so Adam wouldn't hear.

"You've lost a lot of weight. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "I got...really sick. Spent two weeks unconscious with a fever of a hundred and four. It was going around the school - a few people actually died from it. I'm trying to put the weight back on."

Kate relaxed. "But you're okay now?"

"Perfectly healthy," Sam reassured her.

"Good," Kate said, smiling up at him fondly - she was a few inches shorter than he was nowadays. "You mind putting the rest of the food away?"

"On it," Sam said promptly, opening the cabinet with the Tupperware.

The rest of break passed quickly. Sam wrote an essay for his Law class and one for Ethics, and then it was time to return. Sam Portkeyed back, wishing like hell he'd learned to Apparate.

They moved on to curse detection in Magical Defense and actual sparring in Physical Instruction. Sam left more than one person with bruises and broken bones, but his defense hadn't suffered nearly as much as his offense had over the years, and he was rarely injured.

In Animagus training, they'd also changed the game. In combat, the wands began shooting Stinging Hexes at them as they attacked, and they had to dodge them and either disarm or kill, depending on the assignment. Sometimes two of them were spelled to attack at once, and they had to take out both of them. In spying, Spiri bewitched the obstacles to have a conversation, and they had to be able to give any information they picked up while they were running the course.

Valentine's Day was a Saturday, so Sam and Emily spent the fifteenth together instead. Sam had transfigured some spare parchment into a silver necklace set with emeralds, her birthstone, as a gift. She put it on immediately and took him to lunch in a café that had quickly become one of their favorites, and then they wandered the town for the afternoon, kissing at random times. Near the end, she pulled him into an alleyway and pulled a box of chocolate strawberries from her pocket. Sam laughed - he hadn't expected that - and kissed her until they were both breathless.

February melted into March, and then to April. On the eighteenth, six of them were called into Daniels' office. Sam only knew the other five by sight.

"We're leaving," Daniels said without preamble. "There's reports of a rawhead in the woods out west of here - you all remember what a rawhead is?"

They nodded. Sam swallowed, remembering the last time they'd come in contact with one. It had taken six Tasers to shoot it down.

"The incantation to create electricity is _Fulmen_ , on the off chance you're dim enough to have already forgotten."

"Why us?" Ashley Smith asked.

"Because you six have the highest scores in physical and magical combat. Any other questions?"

Sam looked down at their bright uniforms. "Um - sir? Shouldn't we change our colors first? If it's in the woods, it'll see us coming a mile away."

Daniels frowned. "What would _you_ suggest?"

"Camo," Sam said, and mumbled the Color-Change Charm. The purple was replaced by greens, browns, and tans. 

"I was going to suggest Disillusionment," Daniels informed him. "But good to know you fall back on Muggles when you go hunting."

Sam blushed. "Never hunted with wizards before, is all."

"But you've hunted with Muggles?" one of the other young men - Fink, his tag read - sneered.

"Raised as one," Sam said, locking eyes with him in some kind of challenge. "You ever hunted at all?"

"If we're done?" Daniels said impatiently. "Disillusion yourselves and let's go!"

They cast the charms and followed him out meekly. They could see each other, since they knew they were there, but to everyone else they were shimmering air, if anything at all. Concealed, they left the school and jogged west until they reached the woods two miles later. They slowed to a walk then, spread out in a line, and moved forward wands-first.

Forty minutes later, the others had forgotten to be quiet. They were muttering to each other about how this was a waste of time, not looking where they put their feet, and Sam was appalled. He'd cracked one twig when he was six, and John had been furious. For eighteen-year-olds to not pay attention...it was galling, to be hunting with them when their distraction could very easily cause their deaths.

He took a breath and resettled himself, tuning them out - he was a ghost, gliding over the leaves and sticks, nothing would crack because he was lighter than air. The rawhead wouldn't see him coming because he was invisible, see-through, clear as the wind.

And then - it was there. Eight feet tall, bald, built like a weightlifter. No sooner had Sam raised his wand, the incantation on his lips, than somebody darted out from behind a tree and shot it with a Taser. It fell back, smoking.

Daniels was frantically gesturing for them to fall back, but Sam was frozen to the spot, because he _knew_ this man.

"Dad?" someone said, voice low, and Sam's breathing picked up.

"Got it, Dean. Thanks for the back-up," John snapped at his oldest son.

John looked the same as he had the day he'd left, but Dean - Dean had grown into a man. At twenty-two, he was pretty as hell, and Sam couldn't deny that if they weren't related and they'd met in a shop he might have made a pass. But they _were_ related, and Dean didn't know he was there - didn't know _they_ were there-

One of the others stepped on a twig. It echoed like a gunshot, and John and Dean both had guns aimed at the sound before Sam could blink. John pointed down, then left - Dean would move to his right in a crouch while John went straight toward the intruder.

A hand jerked him back, and Daniels breathed in his ear, "When I tell you to retreat, you _retreat._ "

"S-Sorry," Sam stuttered back, and followed him out.

When they were back in his office, they cancelled the Disillusionment Charms. "Can you believe it?" Fink said excitedly. "We were _that_ close to a hunter - _that_ close to death-"

Sam still couldn't breathe. His family, in town. Unbelievable. Inconceivable. Impossible.

"Dismissed," Daniels said before they could talk any more. "Get to bed."

"Yessir," everyone but Sam chorused.

In bed that night, Sam wished he could talk to Dean. Right up until the day he'd left, he'd tried to support Sam as best he could. He'd been caught in the middle of Sam and John's silent war, ripped in two separate directions, and had played peacekeeper as much as he could. He'd been the one to stitch Sam up, reset his broken bones, sneak him food against John's decree that a starvation diet was the best way for Sam to lose his 'puppy fat'. Dean had been his best friend right up until the day it all fell apart.

What did he think of Sam now? _Did_ he think of Sam now? Or was it a past life, locked away and never to return? What had John told him? That Sam had somehow sold his soul, or that it had never been Sam at all, but a monster disguised as his little brother who had managed to fool the tests for ten years?

The questions plagued him all night and well into the next day, when he ran twice his usual distance to try to drown out the memories.


	4. Battle, Pt. 1

On May 1, Sam got another call from Sirius. "Sam. Get here. Now," he ordered.

"What's-"

"Hogwarts is under attack," Sirius said bluntly. "It's all hands on deck, and you're a hand."

"Shit. How long do I have? Because I can get reinforcements."

"Get as many as you fucking can. Tell them to Portkey in - you made the Portkeys already, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Good. _Get here._ " Sirius disappeared.

Sam dove underneath his bed and emerged with the bag of transfigured watches, then sprinted to the cafeteria with the bag slung over one shoulder. It was dinnertime - if he hadn't needed to wait so long to take a shower he would have been there when Sirius called.

He went straight to the head table. "Daniels," he said, "I got the call. Hogwarts is under attack. I have Portkeys for anyone who can come."

Daniels stood. "Attention," he called.

The hubbub in the room, lower since Sam had come running in, died down completely.

"As you all know," Daniels continued, "Britain is at war. At this moment, forces are gathering to attack the only school in all of Great Britain - which includes four entire countries, if you were somehow unaware. Thousands of children are in danger.

"If you are willing to fight in the battle, gather in the foyer."

All of the Law Enforcement and about half of the Jailer programs left instantly.

"Go," Daniels said quietly. "Start passing out the Portkeys - I'll follow."

Sam hurried out and bellowed, "LISTEN UP!"

When he had everyone's attention, he continued, "I have a bag of Portkeys here. They can take three people each and will take you straight to the Astronomy Tower. Wait there for me - I'll lead you down to where the defenders are gathering. Hogwarts is a castle with a shit-ton of traps and moving staircases, don't play hero and go wandering off. Now come on, the password for these is" - he checked to make sure he wasn't accidentally touching one - "nargles."

He started handing out Portkeys at random, passing them to anyone who reached, and when there was just one left Sam took Lisa Kilter and Instructor Daniels with him.

"Remus Lupin," he said to the mirror. Sirius's face appeared. "Where are you gathering?" Sam asked.

"Great Hall," Sirius said.

"Be down in five minutes," Sam said, and slipped the mirror back into his pocket. "Come on!" he yelled, and started down the tower.

It had been two years since he'd been here, but Sam remembered the way perfectly. He sprinted down, trusting his classmates to be in good enough condition to keep up, and skidded to a halt outside the Great Hall four and a half minutes later. He seized the doors and pulled them open.

It was packed, with students and teachers and Order members alike. Even Percy Weasley was there, having apparently come to his senses sometime over the past year.

"If you are of age, you may stay," McGonagall said to a standing Ernie Macmillan, "and I see our American allies have come as well."

"Hundred or so extra fighters for you, Professor," Sam called.

"Sam!" Millie screamed, in such a hurry to rise from the Slytherin table she fell flat on her face.

Theo was more graceful: he ran the few short feet to Sam and grabbed him in a strangling hug. Sam hugged him back, barely hearing McGonagall answering a girl's question about their belongings.

"Keep an eye on Millie tonight," Sam whispered to him - and then the girl herself was there, throwing herself into his free arm and kissing his cheek.

"Let us get in," Daniels said, amused.

"Yes - of course-" Sam said, discombobulated. "Millie, Theo, come on, let's not block the door."

They let go of him, and Sam saw Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy. All of them showed the effects of the past year, none more severely than Draco, who had lost so much weight his skin was stretched taut over his bones and had dark bruises underneath his eyes from lack of sleep.

A new voice, high and cold, interrupted their preparations. "I know that you are preparing to fight," it said. It was high-pitched, clearly spoken, and articulate. A few people screamed. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

The Great Hall was silent but for Sam's classmates' footsteps as they filed in, examining the room. Oppressive quiet pressed on his eardrums; everyone looked terrified, including Sam's friends. That clued him in on who he was hearing.

Lord Voldemort.

"Give me Harry Potter," he continued, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Everyone was looking at the doors in silence; Sam turned to see Harry standing there, looking at them all, face pale and drawn. Ron and Hermione weren't with him, and his stomach dropped - had something foul befallen them?

McGonagall spoke. "Anyone wishing to fight with us, remain. Everyone else, and everyone underage, follow Mr. Filch out of the castle."

"How will we know if it's safe to come back?" a first-year Hufflepuff asked.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "We'll tell you," she said. "Slytherins, you first."

The table emptied, following Filch.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, turning and following them.

"I can't fight my parents," Pansy said, joining him. Blaise and Goyle went with her.

Crabbe, Theo, and Millie stayed; they were the only Slytherins to remain. "We're with you, Sam," Theo said, meeting his eyes squarely.

"And if you meet your parents?" Sam asked.

"They won't attack their children," Millie said, sounding unconvinced. "And they all wear masks."

Sam nodded.

"Ravenclaws!" McGonagall cried, and all but a handful of students in blue-trimmed robes walked out. A larger number of Hufflepuffs remained, and half of Gryffindor table stayed. McGonagall descended from the platform to chivvy out the ones who were underage.

Harry walked over to them. "Fighting with us?" he asked the Slytherins doubtfully.

"Yes," Millie said, challenging him.

"Good to see you again, Harry," Sam said, and pulled him into a hug the other boy was too surprised to resist. "Say one thing against them and there won't be enough left of you for Voldemort to fight."

He released Harry, who staggered back and blinked at him. "Good to see you, too, Sam," he said automatically. "Good to see your tactics haven't changed since Umbridge."

"Why change something that works?" Sam asked smoothly.

"What are you even wearing?"

"Uniform. I'm in Auror training right now. Everyone else in this is the same - we're three months from finishing."

"Have you seen Ron and Hermione?"

"No, sorry," Sam said.

Shacklebolt interrupted their conversation. "We've only got half an hour until midnight," he announced to the room at large, "so we need to act fast! A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers - Ravenclaw, Astronomy, and Gryffindor - where they'll have a good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile Remus, Arthur, and I will take groups onto the grounds. We'll need somebody to organize defense of the entrances of the passageways into the school-"

"Sounds like a job for us," Fred called, pointing at George.

Shacklebolt nodded. "All right, leaders up here - Law Academy leaders and Sam Winchester, you too - and we'll divide up the troops!"

Sam hurried forward, joining the huddle of teachers, Order members, and Daniels.

"Sorry, what's your name?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Darren Daniels."

"Daniels, we're counting on your knowledge of your students to tell us who should go with whom," Shacklebolt said.

Daniels considered. "I'll go split them up," he said. "Winchester, where are you-"

"Onto the grounds," Lupin interrupted. "He's best in close quarters, unless something big's changed."

"Lisa Kilter and Johanna Brown should be with us, too," Sam said to Daniels. "If they get disarmed, they have their Animagus to fall back on. John Green, maybe, but he's pretty good with distance spells and-"

Daniels rolled his eyes. "I know my students, Winchester," he said waspishly, and departed.

George snickered. "Made an enemy?"

Sam flipped him off and looked at Shacklebolt. "Three groups," he prompted.

"Right. I want you leading one of the grounds troops - they'll listen to you. Fred, George, who's good with the entrances?"

They were swarmed by eager students, and suddenly there was no need to discuss the abstract: groups were chosen quickly and efficiently by pointing and yelling names if they were known. At the same time they coordinated the defense amongst themselves. When the crowd cleared, the tower groups were at the Ravenclaw table, the passage groups were at Hufflepuff, and the ground troops were at Gryffindor. Millie and Theo were sitting with a few dozen of Sam's fellows for the tower groups; Crabbe was among those chosen for the passages. He was bad with verbal spells, for the same reason he had a hard time with speech, but his bulk would be an advantage in the small corridors.

Sam himself slid into a seat next to Dean, Seamus, Ernie, and Neville at the Gryffindor table. "So," he said casually, "heard any good jokes lately?"

They stared at him, then started laughing.

"Fifteen minutes to midnight," Shacklebolt boomed. "Minerva, Pomona, Filius, if you would?"

The three teachers emptied the Ravenclaw table and hurried out.

"Fred and George?"

The twins led everyone at the Hufflepuff table out, issuing instructions at the speed of light.

"The rest of you," Shacklebolt said, "divide into four groups - at the Gryffindor table, only those of you who won't mind following Sam, if you don't mind."

Most of the Law Academy students got up and left, settling themselves at other tables, and Sam was left with his fellow Animagi, half of the Hogwarts students, and about twenty Law students, mostly jailers - but Sam recognized Luis Wilson, who slept next to him. They hadn't talked since that first day.

Sam smiled at him. "All right, guys, we've got the west side of the grounds. Shacklebolt's got the middle, and Mr. Weasley has the east. Lupin and Sirius are spread out at our backs. Now we have to go - it's ten to midnight, and we need to be in position before Voldemort leads them all in here."

Squawks and flinches greeted his pronouncement. Sam rolled his eyes. "You're going to see him before the night's up," Sam informed the Brits. "If you can't control yourselves at the mention of his name, you're going to be a hindrance in his presence. Grow the fuck up."

He took a deep breath. "These are Death Eaters they're fighting, which means spells like _Incarcerous_ aren't going to cut it. You fight to kill, understand me? You can kill with a Severing Charm if you aim it right, or _Wingardium Leviosa_ if you put enough power behind it. A battle is no time for mercy. Now let's go."

He led them out onto the grounds. He took point; the people who were trained he placed near the front of the formation. The Hogwarts students he set to the back, offering them what meager protection he could.

"You sure about this, Sam?" Lisa asked him.

"I've been seeing this battle since I was fourteen," he said without looking at her. "I've already warned everyone I can. I'm pretty fucking sure."

The clock chimed midnight, signaling the start of the battle. The gates were blasted off their hinges, and Death Eaters poured in.

Sam raised his wand. Showtime.


	5. Battle, Pt. 2

" _Praemunio! Caesa, caesa, diffindo, praemunio, praemunio maxima!"_ The last was tacked on when he saw a curse heading toward Lisa Kilter's back. It bounced off his shield and hit its caster.

Two minutes in and it was already a mess. The Death Eaters might not have been expecting a hundred mostly-trained Aurors, but they were fighting for a cause they believed in and they were fighting to the death. His Cutting Curses were hitting with ruthless efficiency and power, slicing necks. He missed a few times, spells arcing off to hit the surrounding walls, but he was trained to kill and killing he was.

A wand soared over his head, and he heard a lion's roar: Lisa had been disarmed and had been transformed. He cast a Layered Shield Charm and snarled, " _Accio Lisa's wand!_ " It flew to his hand, and he pushed it into his pocket. "LISA!" he bellowed.

The lion loped up to him and he said, "I've got - _Caesa!_ \- I've got your wand. _Protego maxima._ "

While the Shield Charm held, Lisa rippled into her human form and accepted her wand. She stepped up next to Sam to fight.

Blood splattered his face and he glanced down. It was Lupin.

He turned with a roar of grief and cast a Blasting Curse so powerful it threw the Death Eater into three of his fellows. They fell in a tangle of limbs and Sam cast a dozen Cutting Curses at the pile until they stopped twitching.

"Sam!" Lisa screamed.

He spun around so see her holding a shield against six of them. The two of them couldn't fight six - not as humans, anyway. He cast three successive Layered Shield Charms and said, "I'm transforming. Hold the shield until they're down."

And then he morphed; it took barely a thought now, and he was seeing the red world. He leapt, using a year's worth of training to take down two at a time. His teeth ripped the throat of one, his claws that of the other, and he leapt to take down the next two.

A curse hit his side, and swiped at the caster with a massive paw. His neck broke. Lisa killed the last one.

Sam changed back, panting and holding his ribs. He angled his wand awkwardly and muttered a General Healing Spell to keep him from bleeding out. The rest of the damage could wait until he could see a Healer.

"FALL BACK!" he heard someone scream. "HOGWARTS, FALL BACK!"

"Go!" Sam barked, shielding the backs of his group - which, he was relieved to see, hadn't lost a single Hogwarts student. He and Lisa ran toward the castle, using liberal Cutting Curses to thin the crowd of Death Eaters and free their allies to retreat. They were the last ones in the door, which slammed shut behind them.

There were Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall, too, so they didn't get even a hint of a break. Flitwick and Shacklebolt were each dueling one, and Sam caught the one without a mask in the back with a Disarming Charm. Flitwick killed him before he could pick up one of the many laying on the floor with the dead or injured and turned to help Shacklebolt.

Knowing the two of them could take one opponent easily, Sam surveyed the room. It was chaos, Death Eaters and students everywhere, some students carrying injured friends anywhere they could, others dueling. Lisa pointed: three Death Eaters had five students pinned against the wall. They ran toward the three, casting curses at anyone fighting the defenders, and reached them just as a black spell wrapped itself around a student and ripped him to pieces.

" _Caesa,_ " Sam snarled, aiming for the one who had cast the spell, and his head dropped to the floor, separated from his body.

Lisa was no more merciful: her curse, one Sam didn't know, caused flame to burst from the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears of the middle Death Eater.

The four students remaining cast curses on the last Death Eater all at once. Sam didn't catch what happened to him - he'd turned to deflect a curse heading for Lisa.

He and Lisa turned back to the Entrance Hall as one, Sam's side pulling sharply and almost sending him to his knees. Neville was carrying Venomous Tentacula, which looped itself around a Death Eater's neck and starting pulling him toward its mouth, where its mouthsac would envelop his head and the digestive enzymes would begin to break down tissue. It would be a painful death for him.

Lavender Brown and Cormac McLaggen fell from a balcony and hit the floor heavily. A furred shape scurried across and sank its teeth in Lavender, and Sam spelled him with a Blasting Curse at the same time one from the opposite direction hit. The partially-transformed werewolf fell and did not get up. Sam cut off his head to make sure he was dead - werewolves healed too quickly to take the chance that he was only injured - and joined Lisa in fighting a particularly good dueler. The both of them casting together couldn't do much more than keep her engaged.

Crystal balls began soaring through the air, hitting the head of the one they were dueling with a crack and a flash, and Sam performed the now-routine beheading. "I have more!" Trelawney's all-too-familiar voice shrieked. "More for any who want them! Here-"

But Sam didn't get a chance to see who her next target was: the doors to the Great Hall burst open, admitting acromantulas the size of horses. Everyone scattered, previous adversaries forgotten in the face of the new threat, and Stunners and Killing Curses alike were sent to the gigantic spiders.

Sam had a more practical attitude: knowing that only their undersides were susceptible to spells, he sent streams of fire toward them, driving them back until he slipped in the blood and went to his knees, streams of fire evaporating in the sharp pain radiating up from his ribs.

"Don't hurt 'em, don't hurt 'em!" Hagrid bellowed, running down the steps.

"Dammit, Hagrid," Sam whispered as his former teacher was enveloped by the mass of spiders and carried out: the acromatulas were retreating under the onslaught of spells. For perhaps five seconds, there was silence, everyone staring at each other in disbelief, united under a common feeling of surreality. Lisa pulled him back to his feet.

Then, all at once, they came back to themselves and collided again, dueling each other more violently than before. The battle spilled back out onto the grounds, where, Sam could now see, more Death Eaters waited.

It was a hopeless fight, and he knew it even as he slaughtered four more of the Death Eaters in the Entrance Hall. The Death Eaters were too many, Hogwarts' defenders too few. Their best hope, if not their _only_ hope, was for Harry to kill Voldemort quickly - and if he couldn't, they needed to minimize their own casualties. That was the important thing.

Winning was impossible, so survival was key. Even if Harry _did_ kill Voldemort, as he'd foreseen, the Death Eaters wouldn't go down quietly.

"You have fought," Voldemort's voice said suddenly, bringing all the fights to a standstill, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat at once. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

The Death Eaters were retreating, as commanded, while Voldemort's voice held them all under his spell.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Ringing silence filled the hall. Sam looked at Lisa and mumbled, "Help me get the ones on the floor into the Great Hall...Death Eaters can go into a pile, for all I care, but the ones we know should be lined up."

With Levitation Charms used every bit as liberally as their earlier Cutting Curses, Sam and Lisa started moving bodies into the Great Hall. Others noticed and joined them, pushing tables to the side to make room. Some began pulling in bodies from outside, others from the upper levels.

"Sit," Lisa ordered when she noticed him favoring his side, shoving him down to a table. Sam did as he was commanded. She limped off to find a Healer.

"Winchester," Pomfrey said irritably. "I thought I was done with you when you got expelled."

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," he said sheepishly.

"What's the problem?"

"Got hit in my side," Sam said. "I did a General Healing Charm, but it's getting worse."

Pomfrey slashed the side of his robes open with a spell that didn't cut his skin. "You trapped the curse inside, that's why," she said curtly. "I have to cut this open to cancel it out. Slight pinch."

Lightning ripped up his skin when she used the Severing Charm. " _Finite incantatem maxima,_ " she said firmly.

The radiating pain got better. By the time she finished fixing the internal damage and sealed the skin back up, Sam felt much better. "How bad is your leg?" Pomfrey asked Lisa as she worked.

Lisa grimaced. "Sprained knee. It's not awful."

Pomfrey tossed a spell at her on her way by, and Lisa stopped favoring her right leg. "Thanks," she called.

Pomfrey didn't respond.

The dead were brought in one by one. A few people Sam knew from Law Academy would be returning to their home country in body bags, and his stomach lurched at the sight; he never should have brought them here.

He leaned forward, putting his head on his hands, and pushed himself into sleep. He was exhausted, and if the battle truly did resume in an hour, he needed to rest.

He woke forty minutes later from a nightmare-vision of Dean shooting a yellow-eyed John in the head. The dead had increased in number. Beside him, John, Lisa, Johanna, and Mickey were talking quietly.

Sam got up and slipped out to use the bathroom. He returned and surveyed the dead.

Sirius and Tonks were sitting next to Remus, whom he'd already known about. He was next to Fred, whom he'd seen years before. Other students, ones he'd seen but never talked to, and seven of his Law Academy peers, including Luis Wilson, joined the count.

Sam returned to his Animagus friends and waited for instruction. They all knew they were going to lose, but none of them mentioned it.

Daniels came up next to them. "How you all holding up?" he asked quietly. He was answered with shrugs.

"How close are we to the hour?" Sam asked him.

"Ten minutes, maybe. " Daniels sighed. "I need coffee."

Sam conjured a glass, filled it with water, and transfigured it. "Here. Anyone else?"

"Yeah, please," Lisa said. "We can't all fall asleep in the middle of a siege."

Sam half-smiled. "John used to play explosions on the stereo when my brother Dean and I were supposed to sleep. Trained us to fall asleep on command through anything."

Daniels choked on his coffee. "Sorry," Sam said, "I know it's swill. Better than it used to be, though." He handed a cup to Lisa, and then to the rest of them before making a cup for himself and chugging it down in three swallows. 

They were interrupted, then, by Voldemort's voice for the third time that night. "Harry Potter is dead," it announced, and Sam's heart fell - no, no, it couldn't be true, it _couldn't_ , he would have seen that-

But he'd postponed too many deaths to think his visions infallible. They had lost, it was over, everyone was dead.

"He was killed," Voldemort continued, "as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as prove that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost many of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist - man, woman, or child - will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

"Fat chance," Mickey muttered.

The Great Hall was emptying, disgorging its living occupants into the Entrance Hall to see if Voldemort's words were true, and Sam, weary to his bones despite the catnap and coffee, followed them as the screamed, "NO!"s began to ring true, confirming Voldemort's words.

Sam had no idea what happened next; he was too far to the back, he couldn't see or hear. All he could tell was that the crowd was intermittently screaming abuse and magically silenced in the predawn light.

Next he knew, chaos reigned. The defenders spilled onto the lawn, shouting curses and hexes, killing the Death Eaters - who were also under attack, Sam saw when he reached the steps, by the centaurs and a small giant. The crowd retreated from the giants, whose fight was forcing them back inside the castle, and Sam was cursing any enemy he had a clear shot at.

The Death Eaters made it into the Entrance Hall, too, and Sam was suddenly quite busy attacking and defending against them. Another hundred or so fighters joined the throng, then three centaurs, then a group of bizarrely-dressed creatures that were perhaps two feet tall, with long, thin noses and ears, all of whom were wielding knives.

Numbers achieved what Sam had thought impossible for hours: Death Eaters were dying, jinxed from all sides and stabbed in the ankles by the creatures or merely being trampled beneath the crowd's feet. Sam was forced into the Great Hall, then further back; in under ten minutes, his back was pressed against the wall as he spelled frantically, protecting himself and his allies as best he could. He saw a clear space forming in the middle of the Great Hall around Voldemort, a space made by the man killing everyone in reach, and Sam focused on the Death Eaters closest to him and prayed Voldemort wouldn't notice him.

Then McGonagall, Flitwick, and an overweight man in a green bathrobe began dueling Voldemort, and Sam couldn't ignore him anymore; he sent a Cutting Curse at his back. He paid for his distraction by taking a hit to his wand arm. He grabbed his wand quickly with his left hand, snarled a Shield Charm that he _knew_ wasn't up to par, and did his best to repair the damage. He couldn't raise his shoulder high enough to aim, and so he cast left-handed, his spells weaker than they should have been.

Then, suddenly, there was nobody left to duel, and people were screaming Harry's name as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall, facing off with Voldemort.

They started circling each other as silence fell, and Sam slid to the floor. His Healing Charm had clearly not been good enough; his shoulder was still bleeding freely and heavily, too heavily, and he knew the spell had hit a major artery. He looked desperately for help, but everyone was too enthralled with the face-off in front of them. Trying to fix his arm left-handed may well do more harm than good.

Cheers erupted, and someone finally took notice of Sam on the ground putting feeble pressure on his shoulder. It was one of the Order members, Sam saw, one he didn't know. She touched her wand to his shoulder and muttered a few words; the bleeding stopped. "Best I can do for now," she told him, "you'll have to wait for the Healers to stop celebrating for anything better."

"Thanks," Sam said, testing the range of motion. It was as bad as it had been before; Sam felt lightheaded and punch-drunk from blood loss.

"Let's get you to a table," she said, pulling him to his feet.

To his humiliation, he had to lean on her heavily to keep from faceplanting. His balance was shit. When he was placed at a table, he leaned into his hand and blocked out everything around him, right arm dangling limply. His shoulder and elbow were both on fire.

He lost track of what was going on around him, floating in a haze. He knew at one point Daniels came over to tell him they were taking a bunch of the Law Academy students back to school; Sam thought he nodded, but couldn't be sure.

Eventually a Healer came to take a look at him. She ended up Vanishing his clothes from the waist up to get a good look at the injury, poked and prodded for a few minutes, and forced a potion down his throat.

He jerked back to full awareness, pain radiating from his elbow, shoulder, and side and into every inch of his body. "How long ago did this happen?" the Healer asked him.

"Um. A little before Harry killed Voldemort, whenever that was." The Great Hall was illuminated by sunlight; Harry had killed him at dawn.

"So four hours," she said disapprovingly. "How did you miss triage?"

"I don't know!" Sam said indignantly. "It's not like I _tried_ to!"

The Healer sighed wearily. "You waited too long to get help," she said. "I'll do what I can for you, but it might not be right ever again."

"Just stop it hurting so much and I'll be happy," Sam said.

The Healer rolled her eyes and muttered something about bravado, but she tapped his shoulder with her wand and examined the smoky shapes that appeared. Ten minutes later, she sighed and smeared some kind of salve on his arm, the entirety of which instantly went numb. "This might hurt a bit," she warned, and split it open.

But the salve worked, because Sam felt nothing and his arm didn't bleed. She poked her wand in beneath the skin and ran it all down the length; things were shifting and moving, but there was no pain. "That's as much as I can do," she said at last, pulling her wand free and sealing the skin. "Raise your arm as high as you can?"

Sam did as he was bid and got as far as six inches before it refused to go any further.

"Stretching it will help some," she told him. "Now, if you'll excuse me…."

She hurried off. Sam stood and stretched, surveying the room. Harry was sitting on a bench next to Luna, and Sam started toward him, feeling vaguely like he should say something; but the next moment, Luna distracted them all and he swung an invisibility cloak round his shoulders. Sam didn't try to follow him, respecting his need for privacy. He altered his course to speak to Hermione and Ron instead, stepping over the line of the dead.

"Sam!" Hermione said. "I didn't realize you were here!"

"Yeah, Sirius called me," Sam said. "Got here a little before midnight. You two all right?"

"Just fine," Hermione reassured him. "You?"

"Arm's busted," Sam said. "Healer says it might not recover fully, but hey. What can you do. Harry's probably coming for you - he slipped away from everyone else under an invisibility cloak a minute ago. Tell him I'm glad he got it done, if I don't see him before I have to go back to America, okay?"

"Sure," Hermione said.

"All right then," Sam said, and walked off to find someone else he knew.

Lisa, Johanna, John, and Mickey were all standing in a knot to the left of the doors to the Entrance Hall. Theo, Millie, Draco, and two adults Sam guessed were Draco's parents were on the other side. Crabbe was nowhere in sight, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably.

He waved left-handed at his fellow Animagi and joined the knot of Slytherins. "You get through all right?" Sam asked them.

"Yeah, you?" Theo asked.

Sam shrugged and regretted it - the numbing salve was wearing off. "Mostly."

The remaining six Law Academy students, including the other four Animagi, joined their group. "Sam, we need to be going," Lisa said. "Daniels won't be happy we stayed so long."

"Daniels can deal," Sam said bluntly, but he sighed and looked at Millie, Theo and Draco. "Is Crabbe around?"

"He's on the floor," Millie said, eyes filling with tears.

Sam's stomach dropped. "How-"

"The tunnel he was guarding caved in," Draco said dully.

Sam pulled him into a hug, one-armed because he couldn't move his right arm at all. Draco returned it fiercely.

He hugged Millie and Theo next. Theo's sharp eyes caught his bloody shoulder knowingly, and Sam half-smiled. "You guys take care, all right?" he said. "And tell - tell the others I wish I could've said goodbye to them, too."

"Of course," Millie said. "So is this - is this goodbye, or-"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I hope not."

"So do I," Theo said.

John checked his watch. "It's coming up on eight back in Kansas. We really need to go."

Sam stepped back to join his classmates. "Take care of yourselves," he told the Slytherins.

"You too, Sam," Draco said.

Sam touched the steering wheel Johanna held out, and a moment later he felt the jerk behind his navel that told him the Portkey had been activated. His last glimpse of his friends was of them crying.


	6. Epilogue

They fell into bed as soon as they returned to the school, joining their fellows who had done the same mere hours before. Before he fell asleep, Sam reached out and traced his mother's face. _Is this how you thought I'd spend my eighteenth birthday?_ he wondered sadly. _Losing friends and killing people?_

They were awoken by Daniels an hour before dinner. Sam showered robotically and obediently made his way to the dining hall, pain shooting up his arm.

Fiscalizar stood before they ate. "As you are all aware," he said, "yesterday many of the Law Enforcement and Jailer students traveled to England to fight in battle against a great evil. While most returned unharmed, there were casualties. Six of the fighters returned with permanent injury and will likely never work in the field. Ten of them gave their lives.

"Those who fought will come to the auditorium after dinner for more announcements, but all of you must know the cost of fighting. Those of you going into international diplomacy, remember this. Remember the time you lost your classmates because of war, and resolve to never allow prejudice to cloud your judgment. Resolve to explore every avenue of resolving conflict before resorting to violence.

"Law Enforcement students, remember the cost. Remember that what you do, you do to prevent anyone from rising to the position Lord Voldemort created for himself.

"The rest of you, mark this day. Mark this as the day this school was so compassionate that nearly a hundred of you traveled to another country to protect its children. Mark this as the day your peers laid down their lives to prevent the tide of pure evil from enveloping Great Britain. Mark this as the day a villain was prevented from taking over the world.

"Ten of your fellows died to protect children and noncombatants. All of you, remember their names. Remember Alyssa Albert, Brian Cambert, Lisa Frank, Dilbert Guyson, Vanessa Guyson, Rebecca Holt, Phyllis Serwin, Mike Teevee, Nessarose Venti, and Luis Wilson. Remember them, and live in their memory. Live, and celebrate life, remembering every day that these ten men and women laid down their lives for a cause they believed in. Remember the damage prejudice and blind obedience can cause, and fight against them."

Fiscalizar sat, and the tables filled with food. Sam forced himself to eat, left-handed, feeling like the joints in his right arm were being stabbed. The assembly after dinner was much the same speech, praise for their actions, sorrow for the deaths. Fiscalizar ended by telling them that everyone who participated would graduate with highest honors on their combat scores, and that those of them who had been permanently wounded would receive the note on merit alone.

The next day, Emily came to the Law Academy and spent the day with him. They stayed inside, Sam not wanting to face the town. They ended up sitting on his bed, holding each other, for most of the day. Other couples were doing much the same.

The next two months passed in a haze of grief. The entire school mourned the ten students killed in battle. Combined with those who hadn't survived Influenza Chi, it was the highest yearly death toll of any American school in history.

There was also an element of excitement, however. More than eighty students had returned from a battle, flushed with victory despite the losses. Those who hadn't been there asked questions of those who had. They pressed for details, begged for elaboration. They wanted to know.

Through it all, they went back to classes. Sam pushed his arm as far as he could, but two weeks later, he gave up and started learning to cast left-handed. The first time he tried to change into his Animagus form, he couldn't; it hurt too much. A month later he could change, but his front right foot dragged. His teachers made no comment, but there was pity when they looked at him.

At the beginning of August, he received a call on his mirror. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes - it was barely three in the morning - and mumbled, "Here."

McGonagall's face appeared. "Mr. Winchester."

"Yeah," Sam said, looking down at her. "What's up, Professor?"

"How's your shoulder?"

Sam grimaced, wondering how she'd learned of it. "About the same. Can't lift my arm too well still. But you didn't call to talk about that."

"No, I didn't," she said stiffly. "You may remember our difficulty finding Defense Against the Dark Arts professors."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are finishing Auror training at the end of this month, are you not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"How would you like a job?"

"As a teacher?"

"As a teacher," she said. "You know the castle, you know the students, and you know the material."

"But I'm not - I've never tried to teach-"

Snape's words from fifth year floated into his head: _Have you given any thought to teaching? Filius tells me you are helpful when Nott fails._

"I think you may be good at it," she said. "I don't require an answer now. Let me know by August the fifteenth if you are interested."

The mirror went blank, and Sam lay awake until the rest of the school stirred for breakfast. He mulled it over as he ate left-handed, cast left-handed, and had his ass handed to him during Physical Instruction. He called McGonagall back that night to tell her he'd do it, and asked Daniels to take him off the interview roster because he'd already gotten a job offer. He told Emily, who was already planning to interview with St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London, Sister Christian Hospital in Newark, Brigid Hospital in Sacramento, and Lankley's Emergency Center in El Paso. She told him if she was offered a job at Mungo's she was going to take it.

In the meantime, he had lesson plans to write. His handwriting was still sloppy; he ended up borrowing a Dictation Quill and saying what he had planned out loud, scratching out and adding at will until he had what he thought were workable plans.

Then, suddenly, it was August twenty-fifth, and Law Enforcement graduation was that night. The school filled with family members beginning at two in the afternoon.

"Sam! Hey, Sam!" someone called, and Sam turned away from Lisa and John just in time to get barreled into by an excited thirteen-year-old.

"Hey, Adam," he said, wrapping his left arm around him. "How was your second year? And are you here alone?"

"I'm right here," Kate said, appearing from the mass of people in the hall. "Oh, you're so _thin_ still."

"Hello, Kate," Sam said, accepting and returning the hug.

"You're favoring your arm," Kate said.

Sam winced. "Yeah - um - about that…."

"You didn't write to tell her?" John asked incredulously.

"No point in worrying her," Sam shot back. "There was a battle, Kate. I got hit bad. Arm's not gonna recover for a long time, if ever."

"Oh no!" she said.

"Can you still be police?" Adam asked.

"Probably not," Sam admitted. "But that's okay. McGonagall - she's the new Headmistress at Hogwarts - called me a few weeks ago to offer me a job as the Defense professor. I've been writing lesson plans for the last month."

"You're going back to England?" Kate asked. "When?"

"Saturday at the latest," Sam said. "My girlfriend, Emily, she interviewed with the hospital in London last week. She hears back from them tomorrow."

"So it's serious?" Kate asked.

"We've been dating about a year now," Sam said. "I'm not sure _how_ serious it is, though."

"If she's moving to England for you, I'd say she thinks it's serious," Kate said dryly.

Daniels' voice boomed out: "To the auditorium, everyone, please!"

"See you later," Sam said, slipping off with his friends to line up for the processional. Kate ushered Adam off to the auditorium.

Some song bursting with brass instruments began playing, and that was their cue. They began walking in through a side door to fill the first three rows of seats. Sam was the very last.

Fiscalizar was standing at the podium, looking even paler than he usually did thanks to the ceremonial black robes he was wearing. When they were settled, he cleared his throat.

The speech he made was full of cliched words about the value of bravery and intelligence. The best thing about it was how short it was before he handed the microphone off to Daniels, who at least had a sense of humor.

"When I was in school," he began, "back when we were taught how to make speeches, my teachers always told me to make sure to start with a joke, end with a joke, and keep the jokes close to each other." There were polite titters from the audience. "So now I ask - what do you call siblings who are Seers? Weird Sisters!"

Sam groaned quietly, but clapped politely with the crowd, which tittered.

"Ah, yes. This is the twenty-third Law Enforcement class of which I've been part of instructing, and the fourteenth since I became the director of the program.

"This is, however, the first year there have been casualties during the year. The Influenza Chi epidemic in November took two from our program; the battle at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry took ten. 

"Influenza Chi took Emmet Hawksworth and Elizabeth Warden from us. The Second Battle of Hogwarts, whose volunteers included this entire class, took its toll. Six of our students will never fully recover, but Alyssa Albert, Brian Cambert, Lisa Frank, Dilbert Guyson, Vanessa Guyson, Rebecca Holt, Phyllis Serwin, Mike Teevee, Nessarose Venti, and Luis Wilson will never again draw breath.

"Let us have a moment of silence for those who are no longer with us but whom we will never forget."

Sam bowed his head and shut his eyes. _Let them find peace,_ he thought. _Let them be happy._

After a minute, Daniels cleared his throat. "We have a few awards to give out," he said. "We have the Best Overall Student, Best Classwork Student, Best Field Student, Best Dueler, and Best at Stealth Awards. We will award these after the other certificates have been awarded." Sam saw the front row stand and line up quietly at the steps leading up to the stage. "Mary-Anne Albright! She will be joining the Kansas State Law Enforcement Agency after graduation."

Sam watched his remaining fifty-six classmates receive their certificates. Those who had hunted the Rawhead with Daniels were acknowledged. Daniels also included their plans after graduation.

"Sam Winchester," Daniels called at last, and Sam began to climb the stairs. "Permanent damage from the Second Battle of Hogwarts, Field Squad Leader at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, fighter at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, and Rawhead mission participant. He will be accepting the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry beginning September first."

Daniels passed him the diploma, which he transferred to his dangling right hand before shaking Daniels' hand with his left.

When he'd returned to his seat, Daniels said, "And now - for the awards. Best Overall Student Award goes to Deshawn Dillert!"

They all clapped politely as Deshawn, a thickset black man just shy of nineteen, returned to the stage to accept the plaque.

"Best Classwork Student goes to Lisa Kilter!"

Sam clapped for his friend as she mounted the stage and posed briefly with Daniels as somebody took a picture.

"Best Field Student and Best Dueler both go to Sam Winchester!"

Sam did a double-take. He had an injured arm and hadn't been able to duel properly in months; why? He went up anyway, forcing a smile as he accepted the plaques. Daniels waited until he'd put one of them in his pocket to hand him the other.

When he was off the stage, Daniels called, "And finally, Best at Stealth goes to Sophia Burset!" He waited until she'd accepted the award, posed, and left the stage before he said, "I know the teacher told me to make a joke at the end. But honestly, my comedy's run a little dry. So let's end with this: I give you the graduating class of Law Enforcement 1998!"

The auditorium burst into applause. Sam smiled at Luther Walter, who was sitting next to him. Luther grinned back like a maniac.

They broke up, then, everybody going to their own families. Kate and Adam took him out to dinner, and Sam listened to Adam talk about his second year excitedly. 

That night, after they returned to the Milligans' house, Sam called McGonagall to ask when he should come. At seven o'clock the next morning - noon their time - he used the mirror Portkey to get to McGonagall's office for his next great adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the end of Year L!
> 
> Because so many people have asked: There are going to be another 2-3 stories in this series, it is going to go through the SPN Apocalypse, and I haven't yet decided if I'm going to write anything about when the Potters' kids get to school. I'll probably make that decision sometime in the next month, judging by how quickly I'm churning these out. (172K in under two months! SUCK IT, NANO!)


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